Information Please
by lee-uhm
Summary: Go up four flights of stairs. Through the doors and down the hall of rooms. Take a left at the lukewarm water dispenser, and broken soda machines. Forty steps exactly, and it's just another cubicle. And just another bored worker. Meet Lavi. AU//Lavenish


_Information Please._

There's a scarily harsh fact about life.

Life isn't a love story. It's not a fairytale where the princess and the prince end up together. It's not one of those "successful" tales of love you see on the commercials for those matchmaker places. It's not even a shoujo manga of some sort. It's far from any of those.

I know life isn't perfect. But, for a while, Allen made me wish it was.

------

I rubbed the dark ink stain on my desk, a dull numbness spreading through my waist down from sitting so long. My fingers began to drum an irregular rhythm as my eye slid to look at the clock on the wall.

_Four-fifteen a.m._

Groaning, I resisted running a hand through my hair. Only two more hours til my shift ended.

I leaned back in the creaky leather chair of my cubicle, with my head tilted back and stared at the ceiling. Right then, there were many things I regretted in life. Like remembering that I had left my faucet on at the apartment. Or maybe neglecting to wear a sweater when it was freezing cold in the office. And most importantly, right then, I loathed and regretted my decision to take the ten-hour night-shift at this job.

It's not like I regretted everything about this job, 'cause the pay was pretty good. But it wasn't the best job, in terms of excitement-levels.

I remembered watching a movie where people were running around like busy little ants, picking up phones and getting tangled in the phone wires because of all the havoc. I was _almost _excited to take up this job, since I thought it would probably be like non-stop work. Talking on the phone and relaying information and blahblah. Well, okay. I was as excited at the idea of being a phone operator as one _could _be.

I know my dreams of operating a phone for ten hours seemed like (ridiculous) fun, but sad to say, it was a bit disappointin'.

Or, at least, where I worked. Information Headquarters. That's what it was called. I wasn't particularily fond of the name, but heck. S'a name. They were all the same to me.

And it's not like I minded desk work. I disliked it as much as the next guy, but I almost grew up in a library, so I was used to sitting at a desk. (Complete with the dull numbness, of course.)

Homebase, as the workers liked to call it, was laid back. Yeah, everyone did their job and sometimes we had to do a little overtime, like any normal workplace. All due to the massive rush of calls on holidays. People askin' for restaurants, hotels, reservations and all that jazz. But, it kind of reminded me of school. There was something different every day. A new caller-- or a new chapter in the textbook, if we're using the school-scenario. It was different, but it meshed with everyday life and fell into a repetitive circle. I'm not sure I can completely explain the feeling.

We were an information network. It was probably obvious, considering the name, but you wouldn't believe the dolts in this world.

I could have told at least _seventy _stories about the idiotic questions I've received from people. But, you know. Work policy. (Gotta be kind to the customers, an' all.)

Anyway, it was around four in the morning, and I didn't really expect anyone to call. I might've fallen asleep for a second. _Might've._

_Might've_, being the key word because at that certain moment, my line went off.

I jolted upright, nearly knocking over the mug of cold coffee on my desk. There was a flickerin' green button on the phone, and I glared at it scathingly. (It was shaking in fear of me, I swear.)

I was a bit surprised though, not at the sudden noise, but at the fact someone was calling now. I only received calls from people in this area, and it was rare for me to get one this early in the morning. The people in the town of Martel liked their sleep.

Which is why I was cautious in picking up the phone, cradling it in the nook of my shoulder.

"_Information please." _It was a young voice. A boy, I assumed. He was probably around fifteen, sixteen? Seventeen at the most. I couldn't really tell.

"Information," I said. Right about now, the person on the other line would probably:

A) Directly ask me what they wanted, apparently trying to get off the line as quickly as possible.

B) Stutter. (which made it _really _hard for me to interpret what they were saying.)

C) Attempt to make a conversation with me.

The people that tried to make a conversation with me were funny. Not in the charming-funny way. In the so-funny-I'd-like-to-send-you-to-the-funny-farm, kind of funny. If that made any sense.

But these people would always be either smooth talkers, or overly cheerful people. Either way, they somehow managed to sew their personal lives with their question for me. And by the time I answered, it was like, "Okaythankyoubye!" as if they _hadn't _poured half their life story to me. Maybe I'm just ranting. (But hey! They got charged by the minute, not me. So it isn't my problem, eh?)

The voice on the other paused for a minute, and oh God. I thought I had myself another stutterer. I rolled my eye and waited for his jumbled mess of a request.

"_Stupid boy! Ask the man where the nearest bar is!" _A deeper voice, farther away from the phone, drawled.

The boy on the line sighed, "_No, Master. We have to find the motel. It's _four _in the morning." _

Their voices went away from the phone from a second, and I could hear slight bickering. Or, I heard the deeper voice mutter things and the younger one's voice rise in indignation, at least. If they hadn't woken me up, or prevented me from taking a nap, I might've found this more amusing.

"Sir?" I said, shifting the phone into my hand.

There was a rustling noise, and the older man grabbed the phone, "_Where's the nearest ba--"_

"_Master!" _More rustling.

"Um, sir?" I said again.

The noise stopped, "_Ah-ha! Sorry! Sorry!" _

"It's alright, sir."

"_Allen. My name is Allen."_

"Excuse me?" Allen? Did this boy just _seriously _give me his name?

"_Oh, my name. Uh, sorry. Reflex. Ah-ha-ha." _He laughed awkwardly, and in the background I heard a faint, _"Stupid boy." _

I almost smirked, "It's alright, sir. So, what can I help you with?" On with the point, on with the point.

"_The nearest bar-"_

"_We need the directions to the Nalei Motel." _I gave into the smirk. It sounded like the boy was having a hard time on the other side.

"Well, _Allen, _give me a quick second." The smirk grew as I heard an awkward cough on his end. Placin' the phone back in the crook of my neck, I typed in _'Nalei Motel.'_

-----

I realized that if I stared at my hand under my desk light long enough, it changed colors. Trippy, very trippy.

-----

_Four a.m._

I stared at the clock, trying to see if I could develop Jedi-like powers that gave me the ability to make time go faster. Then again, I didn't know if Jedi's could even control time. I'd have to ask Johnny, the resident Star War's fan, about that. Or was it Star Trek? Trekkie? Wookies? Cookies? Pooky? Garfield?

I should stop trusting Lenalee's coffee. It was makin' me loony. I swirled the light chocolate brown liquid in a cup. Surprisingly, it had already gone cold. Her coffee tended to do that. I had always wondered why, but I don't really know if I _wanted _to know.

Maybe it wasn't her coffee. Maybe after spending all this time in this little cubicle in the back has _finally _driven me crazy. It wouldn't be surprising.

I considered making paper airplanes out of post-it's to pass the time when the phone rang. I shot a look at my unused headphone in the corner. I should _really _start using those someday. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear.

"_Information please." _I had lifted the cold coffee to my mouth to take a sip when my ears quirked at the familiar voice.

"Hey! You're that Allen gu-- I mean, Information."

Apparently he recognized me too, "_Oh! It's you again! Hello." _Something about him was _a bit _too polite for me. I bit my tongue in mild apprehension as I pictured him as a perfect gentleman. Last time I met one of those, I was swindled out of my clothes and my cash in a game of poker. And I thought he was pretty cool to begin with! Mikk or something or other. I don't remember.

"Hello to you too," I politely answered back with a tone that might have sounded mocking to some, "How may I help you, sir?"

"_I know this is weird, but I've got this thing about being called anything other than my real name. Just call me Allen."_ It was blunt, and said in one breath.

I found it to be such a weird statement I almost laughed into the phone, "But _sir, _our conversation might not last long enough for me to use your name in such a personal manner."

"_With a Master like mine," _there was a hint of frustration, "_you'll be hearing from me a lot. And expect weird questions." _His voice lifted a bit, as if he was smilin' on his side.

"Well okay then, _Allen_," I chuckled. Okay, ignore my gentleman comment earlier. He didn't sound too bad. Over the top polite, maybe. But then again, I'm over the top polite to most of my customers. (Made me kind of a hypocrite, didn't it?)

"_So, uh. Back to my earlier question?"_

"Go for it," I said, slowly twirling the cord around my index finger.

----

There was a soda machine on the third floor of Home. It was broken. It stole my dollar fifty and I felt displeased. Especially since I had been having cravings for Dr. Pepper.

----

It was the sixth time he'd called me. The phone rang shortly after four-thirty a.m. this time, and I admit to being a little worried earlier. Usually, Allen called around or before four. Then again, he'd only called five other times and I wondered if I was getting _too _used to his calls. Or maybe I was getting used to him.

Allen had a cheerful personality. I mean, not as cheerful as I could be around my friends, but he was a nice guy. He sort of reminded me of a light. Not to be cheesily poetic or somethin' crappy like that.

He was just the kind of guy that was always optimistic, even if he had short down moments. (Mostly caused by his Master, which I found both amusing and pitiful-ish.) Always lookin' at the brightside, and walking on. I guess it's weird how I learned all this after just five phone calls, but I'm usually good at tellin' what people are like. It's been a little gift'a mine. And Allen was _just _that likeable.

"_Information please?"_

"Yo' Allen." I drawled, hiding the small tinge of relief I was feeling.

"_Hey,"_ he sounded tired, "_Can you tell me where I can buy seventy bouquets of cheap, but nice roses?"_

I blinked.

"Your Master is a busy man."

"_Yes. Yes he is." _

-----

I used to wonder why, just _why _there was no one sitting in the cubicles around me. We had such a huge building for Base, but it was strangely easy for a person to get lost. Not that I ever got lost. I memorized my route long ago.

-----

I picked up the phone, sighing softly 'cause my daydream about me ruling the world with flying pigs that shot soba noodles out of their hooves was cut short.

"_Information please?" _Immediately my mood lifted. It was Allen!

And then I paused in my thoughts, wondering if I had really just mentally jumped like a freakin' puppy at hearing his voice. Maybe I did. That couldn't be good. I waved that thought away with a shake of my head.

"Information. Hey dude," I said.

"_I'm bored."_

"Excuse me?"

"_Entertain me?"_

I stared at a random spot on the wall. Did Allen just call me because he was bored? I couldn't help but think he treated this as if he were just calling my cellphone or something instead of a place that charged by the minute.

"Uh, you do know that we charge by the minute, right?" I asked.

"_Yeah. I know." _he sighed.

I pressed my lips together, wondering what to say.

"Meaning you have.. to pay… with money?" I said the sentence slowly, and I distantly wondered if Allen was drunk or something.

"_I know I have to pay," _he snorted, as if I was being an idiot, "_but I've already got a good paying job at the moment. I think I can stay on the phone a little longer than five minutes."_

I laughed at that, "Well, sure. Whatever floats your boat, dude."

"_Yeah. Well?"_

"Well? Well what? Do you need me to remind you that," I looked at the nearest clock, "it's actually a little half past four thirty in the morning? Normal people should be sleeping, and if you're that bored, you could be too."

"_I _can't _sleep. I work at night. But that's not important. I'm still _really _bored." _

I rolled my eyes, forgetting as many people do, that we were talking on the phone and he could not actually _see _the action. Not that I cared, "Okay then. I have a question for ya."

"Hm?"

"Why'd ya say, "Information Please" if you're not even gonna ask me anythin'?"

Allen didn't say anything for a second or so, "_I guess.."_

"I guess…?" I urged him on.

"_I guess it's because it's kind of become a habit for me."_

I cocked an eyebrow, "Habit? How so?"

He spent another second, _"…I think it's because when I say it, you immediately know it's me."_

"Really?" I blinked in surprise.

Allen laughed, _"Yeah. It's like our little secret code!"_

I laughed with him, "Secret code? Are we both gonna have codenames an' stuff? What are ya? Five? Then again, you _are _a kid."

"_I am not! I just like secret codes and stuff. My dad used to teach me them when I was younger."_

"Ain't that cute!" I crooned into the receiver. Allen snapped back, obviously displeased at my teasing. I smiled again, 'cause even if I did make fun of him for saying it in the first place, I was a fan of codes too. And I really did think it made Allen cute, in a way.

------

There was a dartboard on the left wall of my cubicle. I used to play it while waiting for someone to call. There was one time when Allen called me and I was about to throw it. The shrill beep shocked me, and I threw the dart. There was a hole in the cubicle wall because of it.

------

I decided I fucking loved Allen.

His Brit-ness, of course.

After the first time he said, "bloody" while talking to me, of course. And then I forced him to say other things, and I laughed.

"_It's not that noticeable!" _he said, annoyed by my constant laughter.

I grinned into the phone, "It's not _that _noticeable. But when ya really listen, you can hear it!" It was true.

"_I lived in England for most of my childhood. It's not my fault!"_

I laughed, "Never said it was a bad thing. I love your Brit-ness."

"_You're an idiot." _

I knew he was smiling.

------

There was something weird about office chairs. I leaned back and forth in mine. It made squeaky noises.

------

"_What's the best movie right now?" _Allen asked me, his voice using the same tone he'd always ask when it was related to his Master's ridiculous requests and demands. However, this one wasn't as bad. It was two tickets to the best movie at the movie theater.

"Uh, do ya want my personal opinion or like, the box office's?"

"_Box Office. Somehow, I don't really know if I trust your taste in movies." _

What? Did he just _diss _my taste in movies? That was a no-no, Allen. You don't diss a The Outsiders fan. I'd protect Dally and Ponyboy and Sodapop with my fuckin' life, thank you very much, "Um, 'scuse me but I've got pretty damn _awesome _taste in movies."

"_I know, I know." _Hpmh. Allen was trying to calm me down. Fine. I'll avenge Johnny another day! I typed in the theater website, and scrolled their releases.

"Apparently "_Love in the Locker Rooms" _is a good movie." I read the title, and stared at the picture. It was of a two young guys, probably in their senior years of highschool. They had their arm's wrapped around eachother and for some reason I felt like the movie was probably some erotic gay fratboy movie.

"_Sounds like gay pornography, for some reason." _Allen said, after a moment of thought.

"That's what _I _thought!"

------

I vaguely wondered what life was like on the moon. It was all very profound til I started wondering about how hard it'd be to play Jacks in your spaceship. Then I gave up, and took a nap.

------

I was not in a good mood.

Grumpily seated at my desk, I continued to fume, and I felt like I could probably killed the next person to walk past my cubicle, or the first person to call me, asking me where fuckin' Burger King was.

My evil Gramps was in town, and he was staying at my house. I mean, I love my Gramps since he's well, my _Gramps. _But we had this violent love-hate relationship. And it was violent. He'd get on my case about throwin' away my talent or whatever in a place like HQ, and that I should quit this deadbeat job and do something with my life. And then he'd kick me in the face. Also, he intruded without calling me in the first place! I wasn't even expectin' him to come, but around noon, while I was sleepin' since I actually _do _sleep unlike Allen, apparently. He _picks my fuckin' lock _and then throws his suitcase on me, barkin' some angry, senile babble about how I have a horrible security system. Then he kicks my out of my bed, tellin' me to stop being lazy and go to work so he could get some fuckin' _sleep. _When I said it was _my _bed, he fuckin' kicked me in the face! And did I mention it was _violent? _Did I mention _he _was _violent? _No? I haven't? Well then.

My Gramps is a violent _ass._

I rubbed the sore spot on my cheek, still pissed off about his sudden appearance and abuse of my face when my line rang.

"_Information please?_"

"Hey." I grouchily said.

"_That's a warm welcome," _Allen sarcastically remarked, "_What's wrong?"_

I reached up and ruffled my hair, "S'nothing."

"_Oh really?" _I could clearly tell Allen didn't believe me at all, "_Tell Dr. Allen all your problems. He can help for only a small fee of--.. Okay. I'm sorry." _he stopped mid-joke, realizing that it wouldn't help my mood at all. I guess I was kind of thankful for it.

I grunted, still not in a very sociable mood.

"_Oh come on. Cheer up. It can't be that bad." _Allen said soothingly. It still wasn't helping.

"Yeah. It is that bad, Allen. My Gramps is in town." I groaned and placed my face in my palm, being cautious of the sore cheek. I found it funny that even though I was acting grumpy to Allen, I was still talking to him. If anyone asked, I could have probably said something like, "For the sake of my job" or something like that, but I knew it wasn't. I supposed I just wanted to rant to Allen. (it was a highly possible idea.)

"_Your Grandfather?" _

"Yep."

"_And you're afraid of him?" _

That made me sound wimpy. I growled in my own defense, "Hey! Gramps ain't a normal gramp. He's like.. violent and grumpy twenty-four-seven! And did I mention he's violent? He kicked me in my fuckin' face!"

"_Your… face?" _

"My face." I repeated, nodding once more to the Allen that couldn't see it.

Allen promptly broke out laughing, which displeased me greatly.

------

I don't mind kittens, but I'm more of a dog person. But both can be fluffy, so it didn't matter much to me.

------

Somehow, I had been expecting the caller to be Allen.

"_Information please?" _

"You again?" I joked.

He made a hmph-noise on the other side, making me I smile as he said, "_Well, excuse me for making you do your job." _

My smile grew into a full-blown grin, and I cooed into the phone, "You just like the sound of my voice, don't you?"

Allen sputtered, and I could almost _see _a blush on his face, "_What? No! Stop being an idiot!"_

Laughing, I traced little imaginary circles on my desk. I abso-_fucking-_lutely loved makin' Allen all riled up. It was like, my new hobby. I mused to myself that I should somehow make it an Olympic sport. It'd be a fun sport, indeed. It was just the way that he got all flustered brought me so much amusement, I just couldn't help myself.

Sometimes, I wondered if this is what big brother's felt when they were teasing their little brothers, but something in the back of my mind told me that I'd be lyin' through my teeth if I tried to believe that. (However, I do admit that maybe some brothers enjoyed teasing their younger brothers, I thought my brand of teasing to be different. Different how? I don't know.)

"Just kiddin' with ya." I said.

"_Hmph," _There it was again. That little flustered 'hmph' noise that never failed to make me smile. (I also vaguely wondered if this made me like, some kind of level one sadist.)

"So, whatcha callin' me for, Ahhhh-llen?" I drew out the 'A' in his name for fun.

"_Huh? Oh! Right! Master wants me to find him the nearest Indian mixed with Chinese and a splash of Jamaican cuisine buffet." _Allen obviously thought that this was an incredibly stupid request, and was not afraid to voice it so to me.

"Uh, I'll loo-"

"_I mean, really! Where in the bloody world will you find a place like that? I'll be relieved if we only have to drive within the next few states to find him somewhere like that! Goodness! The nerve of him!" _

I heard a sigh, and I I felt one side of my mouth tilt up sympathetically, "Aw, don'be like that, Allen. I mean, sure. It might be hard for ya to actually find a place like that," I placed my hands on the keys and started typing in what he was looking for, "but y'know. When ya find it, I bet the food'll taste freakin' amazi--.." I stopped and stared at the screen.

"Eh?"

"Allen. Did you know there actually _is _a place like that? Within the city?" My eyebrows were raised so high, I think I might have shifted my eyepatch out of place. I adjusted it absentmindedly as Allen spoke.

"_..Are you serious?"_

"Fo' cereal, babes." I said, acting like a a girl that worked at a diner with way too much make-up on and was busy fixing her hair. (Hair, eyepatch. No big difference, right?)

"_Two things. One, that's almost a miracle." _He paused and I waited.

"Two..?"

"_Two, never speak like that again. Please."_

-----

Sometimes I hated having an eyepatch on one eye. You know those windows that open inwards? I walked into one of those on my right side because I didn't notice it. It hurt.

-----

Allen had me on speakerphone, and I heard the dull _thump _as his head hit the table.

"Whoa, don't hurt yourself there, buddy." I said, the phone taking it's usual home in the crook of my neck as I doodled lazer-firing stick figures all over post-it notes.

He made an unintelligable noise, and I raised an eyebrow, "What the heck was that?"

"_mphms famphbi mphm mph." _I stopped doodling.

"I don't speak your language, sorry. Would you like me to direct you to another language speaking operator?" I took on a an obviously fake, cheery voice.

"_Blah! Dude!" _Apparently, Allen's head resurfaced from whatever table-top it had burried itself in. Huzzah!

"_Master and his dumb cravings. I _swear_, that man will be the _death _of me." _Allen whined.

I flicked the phone receiver, making a high-pitched _twap! _noise, "Ahh-llen!"

"_I know, I know." _I grinned 'cause I could literally _hear _him scowling, _"Don't say things like that." _He mimicked in a very unattractive version of my voice.

"That's a good boy. Respect ya elders."

"_But he wants me to make him homemade _wasabi_. Wasabi! Can you believe it?" _I instantly felt my stomach lurch.

An involuntary ew noise came from my mouth, "Ew. Wasabi."

"_Huh?" _Allen's voice seemed interested, and I imagined him to be sitting up straight now, _"You dislike wasabi?"_

"Dude. Allen. It's a mixture of horseradish powder and pure _evil._"

Allen was silent, but he was probably 'wtf-ing' or somethin' along those lines.

"Oh, Yuu. You're so mean for telling me that wasabi was green pudding.." I unconsciously mumbled.

"_You hate me?" _his voice was confused.

Oops, did I say that out loud? "What? Oh. No. Not you. Yuu."

"…_me?"_

…Geez. I hated explaining this. It was always my nightmare. It's like what my English teacher would say about her English nightmare. Their. They're. There. Augh. Oh well, might as well tell the story. (I actually enjoy telling stories. This one… not so much.)

"No, no," I said, "I have a friend named Yuu. Y-U-U. Kanda Yuu, actually."

"_Ohh," _Allen said, understanding in his voice.

I nodded before stoppin' myself after realizing Allen wouldn't see it anyway, "So yeah. I was hanging around Yuu for a while, and I think he was getting annoyed with me. Oh, you-- Y-O-U, wouldn't believe it, Allen. Yuu is such a hothead, but I love 'im, y'know?"

"_Err. Yes?"_

"..Well yeah. So like, I was hangin' with him when he went to get lunch. We were in highschool, and we went off campus. Or Yuu went off campus and I followed him. He ended up goin' to this Japanese restaurant. Very posh, very posh."

Allen mhm'ed into the phone.

"So I was sittin' there and lookin' at everything and askin' him what all the writing on the pages said. I've studied a little Japanese here and there, but mostly just the Hiragana and that other one.. What's it called.." I tapped my chin, trying to remember.

"_Katakana?" _he offered.

"Yeah! That's it. Katakana."

"_I hope you know that you are sitting in front of a computer. And with a few quick keystrokes you could have probably found it out, right?" _Ouchburnsizzle. I some, it would have sounded like he was being nice, extremely nice. I knew better. There was this eviller side to Allen, once you got past his extreme manners and all.

"Well, yeah, but," I wondered about all the weird wisdoms my gramps had told me when I used to work at his place during summer, "_It's better to learn from those you know than from someone you don't." _That was actually a load of philosophical BS I made up on the spot in my head, but I hoped I made it believable enough to fool Alle--

"_You made that up, didn't you?"_

Caught!

"…no." I meeped.

"_Right." _Allen totally didn't believe me. Plan failed! Abort! Abort!

"_And I hope you know that I am sitting in front of my own laptop. It wasn't hard to google it."_

"Aw, Allen. You really know how to kick a guy when he's down." I pouted. I know Allen couldn't see me, but sometimes you just start forgetting you're on the phone and end up doin' stuff anyway.

"_Yeah, yeah," _he said, waving me off with his words, "_So, the wasabi story?"_

"Oh yeah! I trailed off--"

"_Yep_."

"You make it sound like I always do."

"_You do."_

"Mean! Well, anyway. So I was askin' Yuu about all the squiggly lines and kanji things I didn't remember, and he finally snaps on me. He calls me a rabbit and tells me to leave him alone, in cruder terms, but you get the point. Wouldn't wanna defile your pure, young ears!"

"_I'm not that young!"_

"Kid. I'm like, 22. You're young to me."

"_That's only a few years and don't call me 'kid'."_

"Whatever you say, kid," He squeaked. Or it was a kind of mini-growl, "but yeah. So then Yuu whacks me over the head with this sword he carries around--"

Allen's tone rose, _"A sword?"_

"Yeah. It's like Yuu's baby. He calls it Mugen."

"_Isn't it dangerous?"_

"Well _duh, _" I said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it kinda was at the moment, "but he keeps it sheathed. So anyways, he whacks me over the head and makes me sit down because I'm scaring the waitresses by hittin' on them," Allen sniggered at this, "and pushes a bowl of green stuff in front of me."

"_Oh wow." _Allen sucked in air, sounding like he was trying not to laugh at this point. I wasn't sure whether to smile because I was making him laugh or whine because he was laughing at _my _suffering.

"And he tells me that it's green pudding."

He broke out laughing.

"_Oh-oh my God."_

"Hey! Don't laugh!" I grinned anyway.

"_Not my fault you thought wasabi was green pudding."_

"He said it was pudding!"

"_And you believed him?" _Allen's laughter was growing, and I decided I liked his laugh. I liked it a lot.

----

I remember when I learned Allen had a kitten named Timcanpy.

"_Hey, do you know where there's a Petco or something like that?" _

I paused in my seat, pen held in the air above the crossword of a Sunday newspaper, "Uh, nope."

"_What do you mean _nope?"

"Meaning I don't know where Petco is. Sorry Allen." Did Allen think I was a directory or something? Psh. I don't know where everything is.

Allen sounded like he was prepared to send me to a looney bin, "_You work at an information network and you still don't know where Petco is? You have a computer in front of you and you _still _don't know where Petco is? You have a huge database of information and you _still _don't know where _Petco _is?" _

Oh crap. He's right. I did work at one of those. I had that. And that. "Oops."

"_You're an idiot." _

"It momentarily slipped my mind!"

----

I realized if I had pink font in Microsoft Word and then highlighted it with my cursor, it would turn black and green like the Matrix. I was highly amused for a total of five minutes until someone called, asking where the nearest hospital was.

----

"_Quickest way to get over a hangover?" _Allen groaned.

I cocked an eyebrow, "You have a hangover? Dude. Aren't ya like, younger than me? Isn't that illegal?"

"_It's for my--"_

"For what? I swear Allen. If I have to bail you out of jail for underaged drinking or something I will never let you forget it."

"_Oh please. I don't drink."_

"Drugs? Good _Lord _Allen! What happened to the pure boy I talked to on the phone long ago!?" I sighed dramatically. Of course, I'd done my share of illegal drugs and alcohol as a teenager. It wasn't that abnormal, but if _Allen _was doing them… Well, it's not like I'd try to stop him. It's just I wouldn't have expected someone like him to have dabbled in thing's like it.

"_No! Not drugs, idiot." _

"That's mean!"

"_Not my fault. And it's for my Master."_

I ooh-ed in understanding, "Surprises me that you haven't called me about this before."

Allen grunted, "_He usually doesn't get hangovers. Not that I can tell. But he had this weird vodka-margarita-beer-whisky mix at a party."_

I mentally groaned, "That.. doesn't sound healthy. Like, at all, dude."

"_That's what _I _thought. And the weirdest part about it?"_

"Hm?"

"_It smelled like berries and mango."_

"That's.. not weird at all." At all. Seriously.

-----

I remember how I learned about Allen's father.

Allen called me up one night, and asked me how to get a lady's undergarment out of a car engine.

"Uh. What?" I stopped twirling my pencil in surprise. I figured that I would be used to the strange questions Allen asked me by now. I guess I was wrong.

He coughed awkwardly on the other side, "_Er. Yeah. Master and his …friend …were--"_

I interrupted, "No need to continue, my friend. No need."

"_Er, yeah. So, can you help me?"_

"Of course!" Not really. I winged it, "Depends on how stuck it is."

Allen paused for a second, and I assumed he went to look, _"The …string is …caught on the …yeah."_

"I see. Well, have you tried untangling it?" I couldn't believe I was having this conversation. And it made me wonder why it was _Allen _takin' care of all this when it was his Master and his _boisterous _lady friend's fault.

"_Awkwardly enough, I have." _I tried picturing Allen, whatever he looked like, trying to untangle underwear from a car engine and blushing. It brought a wide grin to my face, even more than the idea that they got freaking _underwear _caught in a car engine.

"Cut it?" I said.

"_Can't. Apparently the lady wants it back." _

Even after it was in a fuckin' _car engine? _

"How noble of you, then. Following the wishes of a lady. I always new you were a true gentleman."

"_It's how I was raised." _I heard no emotion. It sounded like he was just stating a plain fact.

"By your Master? He doesn't sound like the perfect gentleman," I sniggered. Allen's Master, the few times I heard his voice through the other line, and the things Allen told me, were _extremely _un-gentleman-like.

Allen chuckled lightly, as if he was remembering something, _"Actually, Master's a perfect gentleman to a woman. It's just… 'stupid idiot boys' he's rough to." _

"Ouch?"

"_Nah. I guess I learned a little bit from him, but I mostly learned from Mana." _Allen said.

"Mana?" I asked.

"_My father. " _

I thought his Master was his father, if not a slightly creepy one in my eyes, "But I thought..?"

"_That Master was my father? Nah. He's my guardian. Mana's my real father. Well, he's not my real-real father. Or, biologically anyway."_

"Huh?" So his Master wasn't his dad, but neither was his dad his dad?

"_Mana was the man that used to take care of me. I used to be an orphan cause of some issues, and he took me in. Taught me most of what I know today. He might as well have been my real father."_

Ohh, I got it. (Wait. Allen was an orphan?)

"So what happened to 'im?" Shouldn't he be with his dad instead of travellin' with his Master? (And why the hell did Allen call him Master, anyway? I'm not a complete pervert, but my mind kept travellin' to thoughts of _dirtier _things. )

"_He died_." …oops.

"Oh, sorry man-"

"_No, it's okay," _Allen said wistfully_, "It's been a long time. And besides, my time with Master has been more painful_." He ended with a groan, which lead me to believe he was thinking about all the exploits and antics his Master had put him through. Poor guy.

"Sorry for asking."

"_No, it's fine. But, I'm still trying to get this thong out of our engine."_

My mouth quirked into a smile at that, but I still couldn't help but feel intrusive by asking him about his dad, "Pull it?"

"_Nope. It's like, wrapped around something." _

"Honestly, Allen. It's not like I've ever actually had this kinda problem before!" I whined.

"_Isn't it your job to give me information?" _He asked mockingly. I ground my teeth awkwardly, and for a split-second I wondered how a boy raised like him, acting like the perfect gentleman when I had first talked to on the phone had gotten so goddamn _cheeky. (_and then I wondered if any of it was _my _doing, but I brushed that thought away.) Apparently our topic didn't seem to affect him _too _much, so I pushed it to the back of my mind, trying to temporarily forget it.

"Fine. Y'know what I'd do? Pull harder. Put some _muscle _into it, kid!"

"_Maybe I _will_. And don't call me kid!" _

Moments later, I heard the ripping of fabric and low groans.

"_Sometimes, I hate your advice."_

I broke out laughing, "You know you love it."

"_Yeah, yeah." _

And I just smiled.

----

Paper cuts from post-it's hurt. I swear. I sucked at my finger and stared at the pink post-it that had a small, spreading splotch of red. Ew.

-----

I used to think names were just that. _Names. _

Growing up, I had been an avid reader. Mostly 'cause of my Gramps since he's a librarian. I'd flip through page after page of every history book in those big, dusty shelves. _Names. _That's what filled each page. Names and dates and stories of what they did. Why they did it.

_('How they died.' remained unsaid at my lips. It was simply too gruesome for me to think about. Or so I'd tell myself.)_

But I hadn't really thought about my name. Deak Bukkman.

I was told that there were forty-nine male names acknowledged by my family. The first born male of the first born the generation before him would become the new head of the family once my Gramps decided. (Gramp's wasn't really my grandfather, though that's what I told people. I don't know how old he was, but he was old. Like, _really old.)_

The future head of the family would be given one of the forty-nine names from his father, who had received his name from _his _father, and so on. It was a completely strange process to me, but a great honor to my family. Or so my father told me.

I stopped caring about it once he died. But that was a long time ago.

My Gramp's wasn't pleased with it, though. He used to tell me that I was wasting my life and giving the Bukkman name a bad image. But, my family matters are another… more gruesome story altogether.

My main point was, I'd never actually told Allen my name.

And it's not like he'd ever asked. At least, not til then.

"_Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to fly?" _Allen said to me. It was a slow morning. I mean, it was like, four a.m., but it was slower than usual. Not that much happened at four a.m. but you get my point.

Mildly confused, I responded, "Well, yeah. Sure. I have. What kid doesn't at one point in their life?"

Allen chuckled, "_Not like that, silly." _He paused and sighed, "_I mean like _really _fly. You know. See everything around you. Be free._"

"I hear drugs are a wonderful method for that," I snickered.

He made a hmph-like sound, "Not funny. So not funny--" He stopped midsentence.

"Hm?" I quirked an eyebrow. (Not that he saw. _God _that was getting annoying.)

"_You know what I just realized?"_

"Uh, sorry Allen. I can't read your mind, ya know." I jokingly teased.

"_I don't actually know what your name is!" _I froze. I don't know why I froze in the first place, it just felt like he had just stepped into territory I'd rather not have touched. I know it was just my _name _for the love of God.. but I was unnerved. It felt like a critical point where Allen would learn one of my secrets. And I slowly let out the breathe that had hitched in my throat.

What do I say?

"_What's wrong?" _Allen asked, sensing my awkward silence.

I had started toning him out, lost in my panicked thoughts. Did I really trust Allen enough to tell him my name? I mean, sure, I had no issue with telling him about people like Yuu. They.. Well.. They weren't _me. _This was someone I'd been talking to over the _phone _for God's sake. We've been like pen pals. I mean I knew that we were a mostly anonymous information group. Meaning our workers were usually kept out of personal affairs, but I had been like, I don't know. _Fraternizing _with a client or something. The insane part of it all was that I was just noticing it _now. _

Fuck. I liked Allen and all, but it was a wave of sudden nervousness that hit me. I didn't--- I wasn't---

My mind was going at ten million miles an hour and I, for a split second, contemplated hanging up. I couldn't do that though.

"_You okay?" _His voice cut through my thoughts, and I realized I had my hand tangled up in the phone cord like a life-line.

"Y-yeah." The stutter in my voice wasn't noticeable to him, but I heard it.

"_If you don't want to tell me, it's fine." _He sounded concerned, which made me feel even more uncomfortable. What should I tell him? Should I? What was I supposed to do?

"_Ah! Darn. My Master's calling. He's telling me to help him load stuff into our car." _

I didn't say anything. I felt like I didn't have the _nerve _to say anything.

"_Well goodbye, whatever your name is--"_

"Lavi!" I nearly yelled out my father's name.

"_Lavi?" _Allen sounded pleased. I felt like shit.

"_That's a nice name. Goodbye!" _

"Bye." And he hung up.

You know the feeling when you drop a glass cup or bowl on the floor? You don't even know it's coming sometimes. And then it hit's the floor with a loud _crack _and the glass shards go everywhere. That's what it felt like.

That's _exactly _what it felt like.

-----

It was exactly two months, one weeks, and four days since he'd last called. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I've been gifted with an exceptionally good memory. And I used it. Sometimes.

Like then, for instance. I didn't exactly know what had compelled me to count the time since he stopped calling. I guessed I was hanging on to it. The thin hopes that he'd call again, and I'd be able to hear his voice _one _more time. I'd grown to like his voice.

Even if it did sound like if he was fresh out of the town called _puberty. _

I felt like a bloody schoolgirl waiting for her crush to call. I leaned over the desk at this revelation, my face in my palm. No. I'd never call it that. I grimaced, and pushed myself up.

I should've gotten over it. He was just _one _caller.

I wanted calls? I got calls. I got them everyday. I got them for different things. Dog grooming parlors, hotels, restaurants, schools, gyms-- anything at all. I got the call. But something in me just _didn't _want to let go of the caller I'd lied to about my real name.

I don't even _know _why I didn't tell Allen my real name. It was harmless. It was _four letters. _(Deak is four letters too, but that's irrelevant.)

Lavi wasn't really a fake name. It was my father's name, but it wasn't the fact that I had _lied _for completely no reason that made me uncomfortable. It was because I was freakin' _nervous. _I know I shouldn't be proud of it, but I'm a great liar.

Which led me to one question.

Why had I been nervous, anyway? Allen had just asked me my _name_. I remembered the tone of his voice. It was his usual, calm tone but why why _why _did I feel like he knew I was lying? It felt like there was some undertone to his voice, whispering, "_Deak. I know you're lying." _

It took all my willpower to hold my tongue and not blurt out, "I'm sorry, Allen! I lied. My name is Deak!" like someone completely not me.

And God knows I wanted to. I could have probably found his number in our call logs, and no matter how much I craved to do so, it was against the rules. An invasion of privacy of the caller, of some sorts.

So I resisted.

-----

It was three months, two weeks, and six days since he'd last called. I should've stopped counting, but it was becoming less of a _hope _and more of a _routine. _Like counting the days til something happened. And there were a few moments when my line would ring and I'd nearly jump out of my chair.

It was obviously one of those times.

_Beep._

The green light flashed in front of me, as did the loud beep. There was always a slight tremble to my fingers, as if I really believed it would really be _him. _

"_Is this Information?" _

I cursed under my breath. It was a female. She sounded elderly. I bit my inner cheek once before replying.

"Yes, it is. How may I help you, ma'am?" I added a cheerful tone to my voice, but I was feelin' pretty stupid for that one little thought that it _might _be _him. _

"_Young man, can you please give me the number for Marcelia's Spa on Guzole Street?" _She was all sugar and sweet, I thought. The stereotypical old lady.

I found that actually smiling in real life helped it sound like you weren't completely going out of your mind on the phone.

Anyone that had walked by at that moment would have seen me grinning like I was goin' _batshit crazy, _which I think is kind of accurate. (Not that I'd ever admit I was going crazy out loud. In my own mind, sure. Why the hell not?)

"Sure, ma'am. Give me a second." I typed sloppily, misspelling _Guzole _twice before actually finding the place she was looking for. She waited patiently, and somehow, I was grateful for it.

"1-553-967-2478," I said, still keepin' that batshit insane grin on my face although it made my cheeks hurt.

"Thank you!" She probably would have ruffled my hair at this point, or pat me and said what a good boy I was. Maybe offered me ice cream or candy. Then again, maybe I'm being too stereotypical.

She hung up, and once again I was alone in my little world. The dark ink stain from my broken pen was still there, and I rubbed it like I had so many months ago. For some reason, it never came out. In some deep, dark, far away corner of my mind that had already succumbed to insanity, I used to wonder if it was magical.

It was shaped like a lima bean, I decided. There was a little ink trail that lead away from the lima bean stain. It kind of looked like a sprout. It was a lima bean stain with a little sprout-baby growin' out the side. A smile tugged at my lips, and I think I had a very deep, bonding moment with my desk.

A few minutes later, after breaking out of my zen-like state, I stared at my palms in horror.

I really _was _insane. All I needed now was like, I don't know. A phone call from dead people?

_Beep._

Oh shit. I didn't mean that. I recoiled as my phone rang, the obnoxious green light smirking at me like some vile, evil being that had manifested itself into a phone lightbulb. Cautiously, I picked it up.

And just when I thought I had finally distracted myself from _him _by busying myself with my sanity, lima bean desk, and dead people.

"_Information please?"_

It might as well have been a phone call from the dead.

I sat, stunned for a second or two, Allen's voice somehow not making a connection with my mind.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly feeling _very _dry, "Information."

There was a sigh on the otherside. Of relief? I hoped so.

"_Can you tell me the ingredients in wasabi?" _I could hear the timid laugh in his voice, as if he was still unsure of it being me, and I wished to God, Jesus, Buddha, or any other god and deity out there to let me see his face. Just once, I wanted to see the face behind this voice. Just _once._

"It's really you.." I didn't know what to say. It was one of those moments you lie in bed about. Thinking about the _perfect _words to say. The words that'll make you seem totally cool and suave and the person everyone wants to be. Then the moment comes and _bam! _You're a freakin' idiot.

I wondered about him. Was he feeling like I was? Was he trembling as he held the phone? Damn, did he even miss me at all? Millions of thoughts rushed through my head, and I swear at least ten thousand of them wanted me to just throw down the phone and jump around like a monkey. Except, I would never do that.

I heard the faint shuddering of a breath as he spoke again, and it only made me feel better because I knew he was at least _feeling _something, _"Yeah. It is." _

We were silent. Neither knowing what to say, or how to say it. Wanting to say something, but not wanting to break the silence. I held my breathe and shot for it, "How are you? Did your Master ever find that bar?" I tried making my voice as light and casual as possible.

Allen laughed, _"Good. And yeah, he did. Took me a week to work off _that _tab." _

I chuckled, and an image of a laughing boy, his features hidden except for that _wonderful _smile filled my mind, "Glad to see someone's keepin' you in line, sprout."

He snorted, _"Sprout? The heck, Lavi?"_

I froze at my father's name, guilt setting in and runnin' me over like a ten-thousand pound steam roller driven by my gramps, "Uh. Allen. I just wanted to say.."

"_Hm?" _

"Lavi's not my real name," I said, "It's Deak."

He was silent for a moment, as if considering my fate, _"You lied?"_

My voice was low, quiet, and embarrassed. Three things I never thought I'd really be, "Yeah. Sorry. Lavi's my dad's name, actually."

"_S'all right. You owe me for it, though." _His tone was serious.

"Eh?" I asked, not completely understanding what he was talking about.

"_Tell me," _he paused, _"four secrets about you!"_

"You're not mad?" I blinked repeatedly in disbelief.

"_Mana taught me to forgive and let live. Besides, it's just a name. As long as I'm talking to you, what I call you is almost irrelevant, right?" _

Mana. I know you're the guy's dad, and right then, I freakin' loved you. Thank you for raising such a great son who was forgiving. I know Allen and I hadn't known each other for very long, but for what it's worth, I wouldn't want him mad at me.

"..yeah." I didn't really know what to say. I was relieved and stuck in disbelief at the same time. It took Allen's voice to snap me out of it.

"_So, spit up the secrets, and what's with calling me 'sprout'?" _

I took a deep breathe. I hadn't talked to him in more than three months. Like hell I was gonna let myself ruin this one, rare chance to talk to him.

"Well," I said as my eyes travelled to the little ink stain river on my desk, "I saw something that reminded me of you, somehow."

"_That's vague."_

"Yeah. Yeah it is." I smiled. And for the first time in my life, I think I actually considered what I would name my future first-son.

-----

Allen never called again.

Somehow, I knew he wouldn't. It was the light-hearted tone of his voice and the joking way he said, "goodbye!" that just _told me _I'd never see or hear from him again.

Even now, three years later, I still miss him.

Not that I'd admit it.

I wish I could say that we met up somewhere and kissed under the sun. Or maybe some hot-sexing up for my sex-deprived self. Or we met and it turned out to be some extremely weird coincedence because he worked with me. Or maybe he was actually living in the apartment next to mine. Or we became best friends, as close as house-wives in your stereotypical suburban neighborhood. However, none of those happened.

I don't know what happened to the boy whose calls about little, unimportant things always seemed to brighten up my day.

Honestly, I don't even know his age. His last name. What he looks like. Why he calls that man that's sometimes in the background _"Master". _Why he was in Martel.

I don't know his nationality. His favorite color. Music tastes. _Nothing._

It was silly things that set off little pangs in my heart. (The feeling? I don't know. Loss, maybe? But I guess it can't really be loss if you didn't have it in the first place.)

I _wanted _and still _want _to know.

Picking up the boxes as I moved from my apartment, I'd wonder if his Master made him carry boxes around like this. Did he argue? Or would he be the complete gentleman I knew he could be? Then again, Allen could be a little feisty.

There were times when I'd sit at a Japanese restaurant, staring down into the little bowl of green paste I considered evil. And then I'd smile, because horseradish and white hair would pop into my mind. And occassionally I'd accidentally stick my finger in the green paste and bring it to my lips for a curious taste. Regretting it immediately after.

When I coughed at the dust that got kicked up when I was cleaning, I wondered what he was allergic to. Dust? Peanuts? Cats? And I'd muse to myself, inventing little imaginary conversations with Allen. Maybe he'd sneeze and I'd laugh, or it'd be the other way around.

Walking through the clothes department, I'd sometimes see the ladies undergarment section a little ways off. And sometimes, I'd laugh. Laugh at memories of a panicking boy and the sound of ripping cloth.

There were times when I acted idiotic and ended up hurting myself in some way. And while nursing a bloodied knee, or a paper cut alone in my bathroom, I'd wonder if he'd be standing with me, laughing gently while helping me. Or maybe he'd chasten me as I took my injury in his hand and patched it up.

And when I left HQ to becme a librarian in my gramp's library, I'd sit. Surrounded by books and the smell of ink and paper and leather. I'd wonder what he liked to read. Or if he even read at all.

When I was at the beach, I'd sit and dig little holes in the sand, watching as the waves came up and made my little holes disappear. Allen would probably frown at that. Or maybe he'd laugh and say I was an idiot for digging so close to the water anyway.

There were the moments when I would dance around my kitchen, not that I'd admit it, listening to eighties music. I'd pretend that Allen was there with me. Laughing as I pulled him and danced with him and then he'd complain that whatever we were cooking was burning. I wouldn't mind the burnt taste.

Sometimes, I'd push those little carts they have at the grocery and while I'd look for my items, I'd wonder what kind of food he liked. I don't know what compelled me to think so, but I had the feeling Allen was a big eater. It was just an assumption, and I couldn't really tell.

On my twenty-fifth birthday, I looked around from the top of my staircase at the people dancing and laughing and havin' a good time at the party. I spaced out for a minute, day-dreaming that by some miracle, maybe Allen would come. He'd come an' say happy birthday to me, and I'd--.. I don't know what I'd do.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not obsessed. Not at all. I moved on, for the most part, anyway. These are just those little moments in my life where I looked back. Reminiscin' of some sort. It was just a fond memory, or a slight dream of what could've been. An '_if' _scenario.

I don't know if I loved Allen. I really, _really _wish I could just yell to the world, "I'm in love with a boy I met over the phone!"

But I can't.

I know liked my conversations with him, and that whenever he didn't call, I'd get worried. God knows how many days-- _months _I counted that he hadn't called. But it was just that.

He hadn't _called. _

And I don't feel like I can base anything romantic off of that. I'm just a little too logical for that. (and a little too idealistic for it to _just _be a customer-worker relationship)

But I guess it kind of sounds like I loved him, but I don't know if I could call it love, since I didn't believe in the concept. (Not til it was proven to me in the form of some angellic being in my eye that I wanted to whisk away into the sunset.) But there's always gonna be that little strand of hope that he'll walk into my life again someday. That he'll walk right up to me, and grin. Wave at me, laugh with that laugh I've heard so many times, speak with that voice I've heard so many times.

And maybe- _just maybe, _I could say everything was right with my world.

But there are a few things I know, and I can never forget, for all my stupid memory capacity.

_(I know life isn't perfect.)_

I know he'll never call again.

_(I know it doesn't always have a happy ending.)_

I know I'll never hear his voice or his laugh again.

_(I know I shouldn't have let myself get attached.)_

I know he'll never call me for one of his Master's ridiculous questions or demands.

_(I know I'm an idiot for feeling hurt.)_

I know I shouldn't have even been talking with him like a normal person.

_(I know. God. I __**know.**__)_

I know I'll never see him again.

And I know I should probably just give up and move on completely.

Because he was just a caller.

And it was just my job to pick up.

_Information Please_

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

**A/N: several things i'd like to mention:**

**this fic became my **_**baby. **_

**about Lavi's name being Deak. i don't know. i made Deak his real name, and Lavi his middle. get over it. Desk is a name that Lavi, at one point, had. and it's unbeta'd. i don't make **_**too **_**many mistakes, i think. i know i should've gotten it beta'd, but this thing is my **_**baby **_**and i didn't want people picking it apart **_**just **_**yet. i'll let the flames i may get do that. (however, it's possible that i'll get a beta for it later. just not now. let me roll around in the amazing afterglow of actually finishing this long-ass fic of mine.) -extremely selfish.- teehee.**

**this is not an angst fic. or is it necessarily a romance. (it can be seen as possible romance for you yaoi fans, or a friendship fic for the non-yaoiers. fweee.) it's just a story about things that have happened in life. not necessarily in this way, though. not all questions in the fic will be answered, nor will all loose ends be.. un-loose. because in life, shit doesn't always get explained. think UFO's. or Mickey-Dee's 100% **_**other white meat. **_**(what **_**is **_**that stuff, anyway? other than shit? -hypocrite because it's the only thing i'll eat from there, aside from the fries-)**

**i bloody **_**know **_**i switch from things like **_**ing **_**to **_**in'**_** in this story. it's just how i think of Lavi. he's eloquent and well-educated, but he's also chill and smooth. he can go either way, in my opinion. but, feel free to share your opinion. (so it changes back and forth. and if you don't like it, sorry.)**

**i'm kind of nervous about my Lavi. (**_**my**_** being the fact that the real -Man Lavi is in fact **_**not **_**an information network worker. or a phone operator. blah. but you fangirls know you wanna see Lavi in a headset sprawled sexily over a desk.) i don't know if i can say i've got his personality down. he'll probably change in little ways til i think i've got him IC. **

**and Allen Walker. two words: fudge. you.**

**ohmygod. -freaks out- i loathed writing you, Allen. i love you n'all. but damn. **

**but, as amusing as my mental breakdowns are, it's time for this a/n to end. thanks for reading, and sorry if you didn't like it? i don't give refunds on wasted time if you hated it. sorreh.**

**p.s. i like, forced myself to make this at least 10k words. why? because i'm fucking masochistic, bitch. including the a/n cause i'm goddamn lazy. ufufufu. and my actual goal was 15k words. i am sad. -cries- i couldn't seem to come up with enough plot. -tears-**

_**status report: **_

_**15k words: failed. reached 10k **_

_**keep Allen in-character: failed. mostly?**_

_**keep Lavi in-character: failed. badly.**_

_**but that's **_**okay! i **_**had fun anyway. byebyenao.**_

_**-pooftiems- **_

_**////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\////\**_

_A Stupid Little Omake:_

"Idiot boy." _Whack. _

"Master!"

"Should've asked for a bar."

"Master, it's _four a.m._"

"So?"

"… Nevermind."

**\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\**


End file.
